


freeze tag

by cinnamontoastcronch



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drinking to Cope, F/M, Hurt Michelle Jones, I'm Sorry, Michelle Jones Needs a Hug, Michelle Jones-centric, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Mess, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Peter Parker, Sad, Spideychelle, Teen Angst, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 18:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19751443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnamontoastcronch/pseuds/cinnamontoastcronch
Summary: Post Spider-Man: Far From HomePeter holds back MJ's hair.(Not compliant with Peter's identity reveal, but compliant with everything else, I think.)





	freeze tag

When Peter finds MJ drunk in Brad Davis' bathroom, it really cements the regret he has about attending this party in the first place. 

MJ had wanted to go. Said she liked being that weird girl lurking in the corners at parties. Peter had _not_ wanted to go, and strongly suspected that MJ's reasoning was complete bullshit, but he looked into her eyes, remembered what it was like to stand on his tiptoes and kiss her, and found himself saying yes.

He hadn't said anything when MJ poured herself a red solo cup of something in a glass bowl. He wasn't about to judge anyone for living on the edge; wanting that little burst of adrenaline. 

And then that solo cup never seemed to drain, and MJ's aim in beer pong got sloppier and sloppier and Peter felt a growing pit of dread form in his stomach. 

When he opens the door, it creaks and groans, and the stench of beer and vomit soaked into wool hits him immediately.

MJ is curled around the toilet, spitting tiredly, and anxiously finger combing all the curl out of her hair until it's all frizz. 

Peter freezes.

"Sorry…" She breathes. "Lost count a lil'... s'fine…" 

Peter's fingers twitch, because he wants to be the perfect boyfriend, and hold back her hair and kiss her cheek even though she smells like throw up, but every move he makes out of the mask is clumsy and stupid and _wrong._

MJ laughs tiredly. "You were right, this party sucks. Next time we'll do your thing… promise."

Peter laughs tightly, spilling out all at once in a little burst of anxiety. "You wanna watch an 8 hour _Star Wars_ marathon with me?" He jokes.

"Oh my god, yes, I'll watch all of them, I swear. Even the shitty ones with Jam Jar whats-his-face." 

Peter sits cross legged next to her, and doesn't feel like every nerve is on fire. He tucks the lock of hair that's always in her eyes behind her ear and feels like a good boyfriend. "I won't make you watch the prequels."

MJ leans into his touch, sighing contentedly. "You're a good boyfriend… y'know that?" 

Peter scoots a little closer, the soggy carpet bunching up underneath him. "I try."

" _No,_ I mean--" MJ's suddenly back to tugging at her hair and Peter feels all wrong again. Her voice is thick with tears, and he feels lost and itchy. "You're like-- you're like a _really, really_ good boyfriend, y'know?" She wipes under her nose with the sleeve of her sweater. "You're so nice… and you're _cute_ … and you hold my hand when we walk to class, but you're not obnoxious about it like those guys who put their arms around their girlfriends shoulders like they _own them_ \--"

"I'm not really tall enough to do that anyway." Peter tries to joke, but MJ just keeps on.

"And you're so _good_ , you just…" MJ stares into the toilet bowl like she's reading tea leaves. "I saw someone get mugged last week."

Peter's brain goes into static when he hears that. He immediately starts thinking up a million different ways to give MJ a panic button so he can swing by and save the day when it happens again, but--

"And y'know what's so fucked up? I thought for so long about what I would do if I ever saw something like that happening. Like I'd… fuck, I dunno, throw my wallet or some shit, or at least call the fucking police but I just-- _froze._ " MJ's voice shatters on the last word. "I just fucking stood there, Peter. I didn't even feel like I was there, I-- I felt like I was looking down on myself watching it happen, and I just, I couldn't stop thinking: ' _Peter has to deal with this shit every fucking day_.'"

Peter doesn't move. He hadn't been expecting that.

"Like… _fuck_ , are you _okay?_ " MJ asks. She looks at him with enough pity for a whole box of abandoned puppies. 

"I'm gonna take you home." Peter says, starting to help her up off the floor. He forgets to reassure her that he's okay. (He never liked lying to her.)

MJ practically goes boneless against him. She grips his shoulders fiercely, drooping everywhere else. The hair Peter tucked behind her ears falls back over her eye. "S'that why you do it? S'it…" She hiccups. "S'it 'cause you had t'watch somethin' like that…?"

Peter's mouth is unbearably dry. MJ was always more observant than he gave her credit for.

He looks around the dingy little bathroom, with mold stains on the ceiling. The beer smell is suddenly stifling, and Peter feels claustrophobic. "I'll tell you about it later."

Peter loops one of MJ's arms around his shoulders. She always joked about him being the perfect armrest height. 

He ignores the few snide comments thrown at the two of them, though MJ carelessly tosses out a few middle fingers. They disappear from the party without so much as a blip. 

Peter manages to wrangle MJ into the passenger seat of her car. She's still mumbling about something, and Peter doesn't have much in him to console her, beyond a simple _'it's okay.'_

He has to move the seat up about three inches to reach the pedals of her Jeep. 

MJ's still crying on and off, interspersed with hiccups and burps and misplaced giggles. Peter knows it's not even remotely in his control, but he decides he's fine without ever seeing MJ drunk again.

"My little sisters fourteen now, did you know that?" MJ says. 

No. Peter didn't know that. He didn't even know MJ had a little sister. 

"She was nine, when I--" MJ chokes off her words. "She was nine, and I blinked and now she's fourteen. I missed her becoming a teenager, like, for real. I missed her going to middle school. I missed her graduating 8th grade. My mom was there too, so Gia didn't have to go into foster care. I was the only one who blipped, and now it's like I'm a stranger in my own _fucking house, I--_ " 

Peter freezes for a second time that night. He watches himself watch MJ sob, like he's outside his body, and he hates himself every second for it. 

She wipes at her eyes with the same sweater sleeve that got soaked in the toilet bowl a few minutes earlier. 

"Where were you when it happened?" She's asks. 

Peter doesn't breathe. 

"You never talk about it. Ned said you left the bus that morning, but… you never said…" 

Peter turns on the ignition, trying to ignore the stinging in his eyes. It's a losing battle, he realizes quickly, as tears break free, and slip down his cheeks. "It doesn't matter."

MJ shakes her head. "It matters t'me…"

Peter's voice is almost inaudible. " _You don't wanna know…"_

They sit in relative silence for a moment. Only the rumble of the car and the stifled tears of two teenagers fill the air. 

"It's really hard being your girlfriend." MJ slurs, head resting against the window. 

Peter had been expecting it, but it's a gut punch all the same. "I know. I'm sorry." His hands are sweaty, squeaking against the steering wheel. 

Peter starts the drive to his apartment. He doesn't want to deliver MJ home like this. He'll make up some bullshit to MJ's mom about her falling asleep early, and asking if she can stay the night. He'll tell May at least ¾ of the truth, and leave out all that he can. 

He'll wake up almost beside MJ the next morning, her on the bed, him on the floor, and wonder how he got so lucky that someone as perfect as her wants to hold hands with him while they walk to calculus together. 

He'll listen to her ramble on about some episode of _Buzzfeed: Unsolved_ , while they have breakfast together, knowing he'll get to talk about the new _Star Wars_ trailer when she's done. He'll give her a nervous kiss on the cheek before they part for classes, and she'll blush and smile, and the punk nonchalance will melt away for just a second. 

He'll wave to her while he's on patrol and she's on her way home. He'll offer to drop her there, Spider-Man style, and she'll decline like she always does, and he'll give her a 'leftover' Hershey kiss he 'almost forgot about' like he always does. 

They'll both separately make the decision to pretend to forget what they told each other last night. 

(Peter will wait for the real breakup for when she's sober.) 

**Author's Note:**

> hi, I promise I'm gonna post nicer spideychelle things later 
> 
> thanks for reading uwu
> 
> ~Cereal


End file.
